


More Than You Bargained For

by Redjay27



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fantasy AU, Keith is....something else, M/M, Slow Burn, This is just supposed to be real cute, Witch AU, Witch Lance, You'll see what I mean, so if you want a lotta fluff and a little agnst you've come to the right place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-05 04:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16361246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redjay27/pseuds/Redjay27
Summary: After being cursed, Lance sets out on a quest to find a powerful weapon that will be his payment for getting the curse removed. However, once deep in the forest where the weapon is rumored to reside, he winds up in a losing battle. Death is only moments away when he's saved by a mysterious resident of the forest, Keith. Little does Lance know that Keith is exactly what he's been searching for...and probably a little more than he bargained for.





	1. Finding You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which what you're looking for finds you and turns out to be much more than you expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome! This was originally supposed to be just a little one-shot that I wrote for my birthday, but as with everything I do, the idea kinda got away from me and so it turned into whatever this monster is going to be. I hope you enjoy this first chapter and decide to stick around for future installments!
> 
> See ya at the end!  
> ~Redjay

His breaths came out in short and strained pants, each one sending a fire into his lungs. His knees were shaking, almost unable to support the rest of his body. Sweat beaded his forehead, plastering the thin strands of chestnut-colored hair that stuck out from under his hat to his skin. He could feel a small stream of blood trickle from his brow, running down his tan skin slowly. His left arm hung limply at his side, no longer useful after having been crushed not two minutes ago. He grit his teeth, the adrenaline pulsing through his veins working to dull the pain that was radiating up the injury. 

Two dark shadows fell over him, the towering forms in front of him moving closer to their prey. He could no longer see them, a blackness seeping into the edges of his vision from the exhaustion that wracked through him. Instead, all he could see were two gargantuan figures that shifted from two to four as his vision focused and unfocused at a nauseating rate. He knew that one more hit would leave him broken and crumpled on the forest floor, food for the large beasts. 

He was alone. Completely and utterly alone. He had been told that it was foolish to travel through this forest by himself. He had been told that some of the creatures that lurked in the underbrush could kill him without hardly lifting a finger. He had been told that few who entered had rarely made it out in one piece. Still, he went. Blame it on his desperate need to rid himself of the curse that flowed through his veins. But right now, that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the two large forest trolls that had stumbled across his campsite while he slept. He had no idea how they had managed to get past all of his wards, but he hadn’t really had time to figure that out while he had been fighting for his life. 

Sparks danced between the fingers of his right hand, the crackle of electricity fluctuating with every slight movement he made. He could feel the energy building in him, waiting to be called forth and released. Deep blue arcane veins stood out against the skin of his arm, glowing brightly from the magic that was ingrained into his being. He could hear the familiar hum of the power inside him, comforting after so many years of study. 

A cocky, arrogant smile crossed his face, eyes glowing to match the veins on his arms. “Usually I’d say some witty one liner…” Lance said, voice slightly shaky. “But you’re too stupid to understand me!”

With a speed amplified by adrenaline, the caster jutted his arm forward, releasing the power that he held inside. Bolts flew from his fingertips, streaking through the air towards the lumbering trolls. Thunder erupted around them, deafening to his ears no matter how many times he had used this spell. The lightning was hitting his targets before he had time to blink, the bright blue arcs slamming into the chests of the trolls, the current spreading throughout their bodies. 

Through his blurry vision, he could see the two figures seize up, bodies going rigid as the lightning worked its way up and down their forms. After a few moments, the spell dissipated, leaving the caster even more exhausted than he already was. His dropped to one knee, unable to hold his weight any longer. He shifted his now dulled eyes up, heart dropping into his stomach when he saw the two figures still standing, angry grunts coming from both of them after being hit with lightning. 

“Shit…” Lance muttered, voice barely audible to his own ears. He had expected to die during his travels. He went to a lot of dangerous places and tampered with a lot of dangerous things - probably more than he should. So it was only natural that he got what was coming to him. But he didn’t think it would be this soon. He wasn’t ready. He still had so much to do. 

He watched helplessly as the trolls raised their clubs, time seeming to slow down around him. He could hear the blood rushing through his head, feel the pulse of his erratic heartbeat crashing against his ribs. He wanted to get up. He wanted to run. But his body refused to comply with his will. He had used too much of his power and it had left him drained, only able to watch as his life was snuffed out. 

The world around him was going dark, the blackness on the edges of his vision no longer being held at bay. And as the clubs of the trolls started to make their descent towards him, he found himself being pulled beneath the surface of consciousness, the last thing he saw being a flash of red. 

~~~~~

Opening his eyes, Lance was greeted by dark browns and forest greens. A lush canopy lay above him, too thick for sunlight to filter through. Vines hung from the branches above his head, small red flowers sprouting from them in an almost unnatural way. The dark green leaves were larger than his head and seemed to radiate some ethereal glow. Looking closer, Lance could see small bits of twine scattered throughout growth, pulling two branches together, shaping the forest ceiling. 

As he was pulled from his unconscious state, he also noticed the softness beneath him. It wasn’t anything like the dirt clumps and tree roots that had been digging into his back the past couple of nights. No, this felt more like an actual bed, even going so far as to having what seemed to be a pillow beneath his head. 

He shifted his eyes lethargically around the room he found himself in, the brown and green theme continuing from the ceiling. He was in a small room, that much he was certain of. There wasn’t much too it to be honest - only the bed which he currently lay in and a small nightstand being the only furniture. He could see the nightstand was made out of small branches that were tied together by twine, mirroring the work done to the canopy. It was impressive craftsmanship, Lance could admit. 

Atop the nightstand he saw his hat. He could see the small tears and scuffs in the dark blue fabric mostly likely left over from the troll fight. He’d have to fix that later. But beyond that, the wide brim and sagging tip looked just as it always had. 

Aside from that the room was empty. He could see a doorway on the far side of the room, a fur curtain blocking whatever lay beyond. Movement could be heard coming from the other side, the occasional footstep accompanied by soft muttering. 

Someone was here. 

But where was here? And how was he not dead?

That last thing he remembered was the trolls and then the bright light. That was it. By all rights he should be dead. He should be digesting in the stomach of those trolls by now, the rest of the world not knowing what happened to him. But he wasn’t. And while he was grateful for that, he had no idea if he had simply been pulled out of the frying pan to only be thrust into the fire. Whoever owned this place might not be as friendly as he hoped.

Trying to shake the grogginess from his mind, Lance sat up, noticing how he felt no pain. He glanced down at his left arm, expecting to see a broken mess but instead finding that it looked untouched. He raised his arm and moved it around a bit, examining the small freckles and blemishes that littered his skin. They looked as they always did. 

Healing magic. 

That’s what Lance decided. It was the only logical explanation. His arm should’ve been out of commission of months at best; at worst not usable ever again. But It was fine now. Only a high-level healer could’ve managed something like that. 

Regardless, he couldn’t just sit around. He needed to figure out where he was and hope that he hadn’t found himself in a worse situation. The fact that he had been healed helped to calm his mind slightly, but he wasn’t about to let his guard down. Look what had happened last time he’d done that.

Lance swung his legs over the side of the small bed before standing up. His knees buckled slightly, the exhaustion from pushing his magic too far still present within him. Catching himself on the edge of the bed, Lance managed to remain standing. It was a few moments longer before he felt strong enough to stand on his own, although he still felt like his legs were going to give in at any moment. 

He grabbed his hat from the nightstand, situating it neatly on his head. He scanned the small room, looking for any sign of his matching cloak, but didn’t see it hanging from one of the branches that made up the walls of the room. If he had to guess, he’d say that whoever owned this place had put it somewhere else for the time being, a fact that irked him. 

Inspecting the rest of his clothes quickly, Lance noticed a few rips in the long, light blue tunic he wore, splotches of red staining the tattered edges. The dark blue sash that hung from his wait was still fixed in place, the hems of the cloth fraying slightly. His pants looked no better, the navy fabric that hugged his legs torn at the knees and muddied. He was surprised to see the white linen wraps that he wound around his shins were still there - if a little dirty themselves. The soft fabric wrapped around feet and up his leg, only stopping once they reached the base of his pants. 

Lance decided that he looked like a wreck. But he was alive. He’d much rather be alive and looking like a wreck than dead and looking like tomato paste. Once he had all of his strength back it wouldn’t take him long to mend all of his clothing, but for now he would have to remain looking like he had just barely escaped death...which he had. 

Lance turned his attention to the doorway, still hearing the noises coming from the other side. His eyes narrowed as he steeled himself, getting ready for whatever lay on the other side of the curtain - friend or foe. He was grateful for being saved, but that didn’t mean he trusted whatever had saved him. Too often in this world people became caught up in owing their lives to some less-than-righteous entity. He was certainly familiar enough with that.

“Only one way to find out…” Lance muttered to himself as he stepped towards the doorway, heart pounding inside his chest. He swallowed the nervous bile that had risen in his throat as he reached the doorway, extending one hand to pull the curtain aside. 

He was greeted by a room that was only slightly larger than the one he had just been in. It took him only a moment to see that the walls and ceiling of the room were also constructed the same as the room he had just come from. There wasn’t much to the room. A small table with one chair sat in the center of the open space, cleared off at the moment. The walls were lined with small shelves which housed an abundance of herbs and other ingredient-like things that Lance didn’t know the names of - he never really cared for alchemy. One corner of the room housed a small fireplace which looked to be made out of rocks that were collected over a period of time, some stained black with soot while others looked practically untouched. There were various items for living spread around the room, a broom in one corner, pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. It was a rustic home, but Lance could see the dedication that had gone into making it. 

But what caught the caster’s attention the most was the person standing across the room from him, their back turned and slightly hunched over. He could see a mop of raven-colored hair, the strands looking thick and silky even from this distance. The figure wore a deep brown vest, burgundy sleeves pulled up to their elbows. They were still muttering something to themselves, no longer muffled by the curtain. 

“Two of these...and then a bit of that…” 

The voice was low and rich, but youthful sounding. If Lance had to guess, he’d say that the man was not much older than himself. Still, what would a young guy like him be doing out here? 

“It’s about time ya woke up.” The man said, much louder than his previous mutterings. 

Lance’s reaction was instinctual, the flow of arcane energy being called forth without any prior thought. Sparks began to dance across his fingertips, although smaller and fewer than he was used to. The veins on his arms glowed duller than normal, the deep blue barely visible beneath his skin. He could feel the strength being sapped from him again, the magical energies drawing from what little power he had regained. 

He saw the man turn towards him angrily, piercing indigo eyes glaring at him from across the room. They weren’t hostile, but rather...concerned - a fact that left Lance hesitating in his release of arcane power. 

“I just spent the last three days making sure your stupid powers didn’t consume your lifeforce. Please don’t make my work all for nothing by killing yourself now.” The man continued to glare at him, his tone sharp and slightly irritated. 

Surprised by the reaction, Lance dropped the spell, the magic in him receding until there was nothing. The man now facing him, Lance got a good look at his face. His skin was paler than most, dark hair contrasting with the light tone. His eyes were...unnatural, the indigo irises almost otherworldly. His features were sharp, but not so much as to be harsh. There was a softness to them, a kind of comfort to be found in the expressions that crossed his face. A dull red scar ran across his right cheek, reaching from beneath his eye and continuing to just below his ear. He looked human, but not. Something was just a little off, though Lance couldn’t place what. 

Noticing that the man was waiting for Lance to speak, he awkwardly cleared his throat before saying. “You did...what?”

“Saved your life.” Came the response, the man crossing his arms over his chest. “Twice.”

“Cool, cool…” Lance said, still trying to get his bearings. “How?”

The man’s expression didn’t change as he spoke. “By getting rid of those trolls you pissed off. For future reference, maybe someone at your uh...skill level shouldn’t be wandering around these woods alone.” 

Lance could feel his irritation spark at the insult, a heat growing in the center of his chest. “My skill level?”

The man gave a small shrug. “It’s pretty common knowledge that going beyond your magic’s strength can lead to arcane consumption...ya know, when magic starts drawing from your lifeforce? Even an amateur should know that.” Lance restrained himself from squirming as the man ran his gaze up and down his form. “So what are you? A novice or something?”

Lance’s muscles tightened, his pride far too wounded to respond in any sort of rational manner. “ _ Excuse you?  _ I’ve been studying for years! Of course I knew that! But in case you missed it, I was about to be killed by trolls! What was I supposed to do?”

The man seemed unphased by Lance’s outburst. “Run. That’s what most people do.”

Lance found his voice catching in his throat, all signs of his anger dissipating in an instant. He instinctively glanced down at his wrapped feet, a familiar pang of guilt and regret hitting him in the chest. 

“Let’s just say that running really isn’t an option for me…” Lance muttered quietly, not daring to meet those piercing indigo eyes. “B-But anyways, I should be going. Thanks for making sure I didn’t die...and all that...but I’ve got places to be and a thing to find and to be perfectly honest, I don’t really like you so…yeah.” Lance’s eyes darted around the room as he spoke, not stopping until they landed on his cloak that was hanging on one of the branches jutting out of the wall next to what he assumed was the front door. He started moving towards it without hesitation. 

“How far do you think you’ll make it in that state?” The raven-haired man asked. 

“No one asked you to worry about me.” Lance shot at him, pulling his cloak from the wall and wrapping it around himself. 

The man scoffed. “So should I have just left you to die at the hands of those trolls?”

“Yes!...er no! Maybe!” Lance said, his previous anger returning. Who did this guy think he was acting all high and mighty? He lived in a goddamn forest like some weirdo. No way was he better in any way, shape, or form. 

“Noted. Next time I’ll just sit back and watch you get crushed to dust.” 

It was Lance’s turn to scoff. “Yeah, like there’ll be a next time. I’m  _ never  _ coming back here.” He reached out to grab the handle of the wooden door, wanting nothing more than to get away from his supposed savior.

“I somehow seriously doubt that.” The man said, an almost cocky tone to his voice. “If you’re looking for what I think you’re looking for, you’ll be back here in a couple of days...if you survive that long.”

Lance froze, eyes going wide. Without looking over his shoulder he asked in a low voice, “What do you mean?” 

There was a small chuckle from behind him. “Exactly what I said.”

Lance turned back to the raven-haired man. “Who the hell  _ are _ you?” 

Lance watched as the man uncrossed his arms, indigo eyes almost hesitant, as if he was debating something. After a few moments, he spoke, “Keith.”

Lance gave him a flat look. “Keith...what?”

Keith gave a small shrug. “Just Keith.”

Lance let out a slightly irritated sight, “Okay, then ‘just Keith’. You think you know what I’m searching for?” 

Keith let out another chuckle, moving to the small table in the room and sitting down. He propped his feet on the table, the front two legs of the chair lifting off the ground as he leaned back. It was a pose that spoke volumes. He clearly knew more than Lance did and he was making sure Lance knew it. 

That pissed Lance off. 

“Everyone who comes this deep into the forest is looking for the same thing. It’s really the only worthwhile thing out here. So why wouldn’t you be searching for it as well?” Keith’s voice was knowing, but careful. Despite his demeanor, Lance could tell that he was choosing his words carefully. 

“And you know where it is?” Lance asked, not moving from his position near the door. 

“You could say that.” Keith replied. 

“And you’ll tell me where it is?” 

“Maybe...if you tell me something in return.” 

“Like what?” Lance asked suspiciously. 

“Like why you want it.” Keith answered casually.

Lance was silent for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. He didn’t know this guy. By all accounts he was just some weirdo in the forest who might not know anything. Why was he living out here anyway? There were trolls and other woodland beasts lurking around. 

But he had saved Lance after all, practically nursed him back to health without even knowing who he was. And despite everything, that wasn’t nothing. Somewhere deep down Lance was grateful for that, but that didn’t mean he trusted the guy. 

He really wanted to find that weapon though. He couldn’t return until he did. What if this was his only chance? What if Keith was the key? How could he just pass up that opportunity? He could just lie, but if Keith had the capabilities to heal him back to normal in just a few days, he was probably powerful enough to cast a simple detect lies spell. It might be too risky. 

“So?” Keith asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.  

Lance let out a resigned sigh, reaching up and adjusting his hat a little. “It’s probably not what you think.” He started, blue eyes locking with indigo. “I don’t want to use it...or for revenge...or anything like that. I don’t even want it to prove myself in some weird soul-searching quest.”

A flash of surprise crossed Keith’s face before it turned to curiosity. “Why then?”

Lance hesitated, a certain ache sprouting in his chest. “To fix these.” He said softly, nodding down towards his wrapped shins and feet. “I…messed up. Got caught up in something I shouldn’t have and…”

Keith remained silent, face unreadable as he listened to Lance. 

“Long story short, I got cursed. It’s a life-weakening one. Makes the muscles weak, the bones fragile. Most people with this curse don’t live very long, but I got lucky. I found someone who was able to contain it, keep it just in my legs.” Lance stopped, tearing his eyes away from Keith’s. It wasn’t often he shared this story and it felt...wrong to be talking so freely with a guy he had just met. But also, right in some weird, backwards way. 

“And this weapon will help how?” Keith asked, his voice softer than before. 

“I went back to the being who cursed me and asked for a deal. If I did something for it, it would remove the curse. They sent me to retrieve the weapon that’s somewhere in this forest. So...here I am.”

“A weapon like that in the hands of a being powerful enough to curse you could be a very dangerous thing.” Keith said almost matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah, I’ve thought about that. I’m not really sure if I’m going to deliver the weapon to it. I would hate for the rest of the world to suffer just so I could walk a little further each day, ya know? That’d be pretty shitty of me…” Lance let out an awkward breathy laugh, not wanting Keith to see how indecisive he felt. It had certainly been a problem that had kept him up most nights. “I’ve debated just turning around and giving up on this stupid errand more times than I can count, leave the weapon where it’s at.” 

Keith pulled his feet off the desk, the legs of his chair landing on the dirt floor with a small thud. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table in front of him, hands clasped. His eyes ran mysteriously over Lance, sending shivers up the caster’s spine. It was like the raven-haired man could see right through him, discovering things that Lance didn’t even know himself. 

After a few moments, Keith stood up, a firm but understanding look on his face. “How about a third option?” He asked, voice much more serious than the arrogance that it had held moments before. 

“Third option?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow towards him. 

“Yeah,” Keith said with a nod. “An option that doesn’t involve handing over the weapon to some dangerous being.” 

“And what would that option be?” The caster asked, slight disbelief to his tone. He had spent weeks thinking about this very problem. If there was a third option, he surely would’ve thought of it by now. 

Keith approached him slowly, indigo eyes shining just a little more than they were before. “If I give this weapon to you, you have to protect it. You can’t let anyone else have it. Only you. And in return, it’ll help and protect you.”

Lance didn’t speak as Keith drew closer, his chest swelling slightly at Keith’s words. The uneasiness that had been ever-present in the back of his head upon meeting the strange raven-haired man had suddenly vanished, an almost ethereal feeling washing over him. 

“It can’t fix your legs, but it can help you, support you. But only if you promise to not let it leave your hands.” Keith said as he stopped right in front of Lance. 

Lance swallowed hard, attempting to clear his dry throat before saying, “I promise.”

Another knowing smirk crossed Keith’s face. “Well then, give me your hand, Lance.”

Lance’s eyes blinked in confusion for a moment. “You know my name? How?”

“Let’s just say I’ve been waiting a long time for you. Hand?” Keith held out his own, waiting. 

Lance only hesitated a moment longer before reaching up and placing his hand in Keith’s, the skin of the raven-haired man smooth against his own. 

“Don’t drop me.” Keith said. 

“Wait what-” Lance’s question was caught short by a sudden flash of bright light, causing the caster to have to shield his eyes with his free hand. It was over in an instant though, the light of the small home returning to normal. 

Keith no longer stood in front of him and a quick glance around the room showed that he was nowhere in sight. In his place instead, clutched in Lance’s hands, was a quarterstaff. Lance stared at it in awe, marveling at the rich black color held by the wood. It was unscarred save for a streak of red that ran down from the top of the staff and ended a little less than halfway down. The staff had no head save for two feathers tied to the top of it, both a deep indigo color. It was beautiful, Lance could admit, but it was also so much more. He could feel the arcane energy radiating out from it, sending small shockwaves through his fingertips and up his arm. It was far more powerful than anything else he’s ever held. 

“I…” Lance stuttered, not really talking to anyone. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the staff, transfixed by the sheer power and elegance of it. 

_ “It’s really not nice to stare.”  _

Lance jumped at the sudden voice in his head, almost dropping the staff in the process. “What the hell?!”

_ “Hey, careful! I told you not to drop me.”  _

“Keith…?” Lance asked, staring at the staff again, realization hitting him. “Is that…? Are you…?”

_ “Congrats, Lance. You’re now the owner of Kei’rethem. Keep me safe.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!  
> And and all comments, thoughts, or any other general feedback is greatly appreciated. Hearing what you guys like about the story helps me to make it better in the long run.  
> I post updates and other klance related things on my tumblr so feel free to follow me there [@canyoufeelthelagnsttonight](https://canyoufeelthelangsttonight.tumblr.com/)  
> Stay safe and I'll see ya next time!
> 
> ~Redjay


	2. Putting Up With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which rocky beginnings can lead to long walks and awkward ice breakers.

“Are you messing with me?” Lance asked, almost entirely convinced that this was all just some weird fever dream. He’d been to a lot of weird places and seen a lot of weird things. He’d met a plethora of different races and cultures, tangled with a lot of not-so-nice people, and had seen his fair share of magical items. But people didn’t just turn into a weapon like the one that was currently grasped in his hand. And even more, weapons  _ certainly  _ didn’t turn into people. Like, he was pretty sure that wasn’t a thing.

...Pretty sure…

“Is this just some weird trap that’ll wind up with me getting cursed again? Cause I can really only handle one.” Lance said, grip loosening as he contemplated dropping the staff and just leaving. 

_ “What? No. It’s not a trap. I’m being serious.” _ Keith voice said in his head, his tone sounding slightly shocked but mostly irritated. 

“Right…” Lance said, drawing out the word. “And I’m supposed to just trust the disembodied voice in my head? Yeah, that seems legit.”

_ “It’s gotten you this far, hasn’t it?” _ Came Keith’s dry response.  _ “A miracle, really.” _

“Okay, rude. ” Lance shot at him, his own irritation starting to show. “And that was my  _ own  _ voice. Not some magical weapon...person...artifact...thing...what are you?”

_ “Kei’rethem.” _   Keith replied bluntly.

“Yeah, see that means nothing to me. I’m gonna need you to elaborate just a smidgen.” 

There was a long sigh in his head followed by a mumbled,  _ “It usually goes better than this…”  _ right before another blinding light filled his vision. 

Lance let out a yelp, squeezing his eyes shut and stumbling back a few steps at his sudden blindness. “Jeez…” He said, rubbing his eyes and blinking rapidly as the light subsided, leaving colored splotches dancing in his vision. “Talk about overkill.”

An annoyed huff sounded from in front of him. “Hasn’t bothered anyone before.”

“You probably blinded them before they had a chance to be bothered.” Lance retorted, vision finally clearing. He could see the now familiar figure of Keith standing a few feet away from him, arms crossed and annoyed look on his face. His eyes were set in a glare, the indigo irises flashing with fire. 

“I’m starting to see why you were cursed.” Keith’s voice was sarcastic, but Lance could tell there was a real irritation behind it. 

“Hey, speak for yourself.” Lance replied, getting defensive. “Clearly you’ve got your own curse goin’ on. You’ve got a condition, my friend.”

“It’s not a condition.” Keith replied, glare hardening. “Or a curse. What you just saw is my true form.”

“Your true form is a glorified walking stick?” Lance asked, hoping to get under Keith’s skin a little. He had an idea as to the amount of power Keith possessed. He’d felt it. It was...astounding. Indescribable. Unbelievable. And in Lance’s experience, there was always a catch to things that housed that much power. A price would have to be paid, consequences served. So excuse him for being somewhat skeptical. 

“For you, yes.” Came Keith’s sharp reply. “I doubt swords are your forte...and you definitely don’t look strong enough to use an axe.” 

Lance let out an offended “Hey!” at the insult but Keith ignored him, continuing his train of thought. 

“And based on how easily those trolls spotted you, I doubt you’re very...roguish in nature. A dagger wouldn’t be much use in your hands. So a glorified walking stick it was.”

“I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of friends.” Lance remarked angrily, hands clenching into fists. It was hard to resist the urge of call forth the arcane energy that he could feel bubbling up within him. He really wanted to send a lightning bolt at this guy, but he doubted it would do any real harm. Plus, there was the whole potentially being consumed by his magic thing. Better to probably steer clear of that. 

“Was it the living alone in a forest that gave me away?” Keith asked, not seeming too perturbed by the statement. 

“More like your shit personality.” Lance replied. 

“You’re one to talk. I just gave you the thing you came all the way out here for and your acting like a child.” Keith took an angry step forward, uncrossing his arms so his clenched fists hung at his side, small flames starting to lick his knuckles. 

“Well I was under the impression that this weapon wasn’t able to talk and therefore, not a huge dick.” Lance fired back at him, taking his own step forward. 

“Birds of a feather I suppose.” Keith replied, tone dangerous. 

Lance knew that getting in a fight with this Keith guy would probably kill him. He was angry, but not stupid. And dying wasn’t something he was in a rush to accomplish. Better to back off before this ended with the entire forest burning down. 

“Keep your power.” Lance said, tone quiet but still tense. “I don’t want it if it’s attached to you. I’ll find some other way to break this stupid curse.” And with that, Lance adjusted his hat and turned on his heel, heading back out into the forest. 

A curt laugh came from behind him. “I waited fifty-seven years for you to find me. You’re insane if you think I’m just gonna let you walk away.” 

“Not my problem, old man.” Lance called back to him, trying to cover his surprise. Fifty-seven years? How old was Keith? He hardly looked older than twenty-one. 

“You’ll never make it back out alive. You’re still drained and if you truly can’t run...I give it a day before those trolls find you again...or something worse.” Keith said, just the smallest hint of desperation in his voice, almost indistinguishable. 

It was enough, however, to stop Lance in his tracks. He knew Keith had a point. At the moment he was pretty defenseless. And while his pride told him to just keep walking and not look back, his logic told him that Keith’s power could come in handy while he waited for his strength to return. 

Slowly, Lance turned back around to Keith who had taken a couple more steps in his direction. His hands were no longer fists, the fire that had previously been there, gone. While his expression was still steely, there was a glint of worry in his eyes. 

“Fifty-seven years?” Lance asked, tone soft but steady. 

Keith nodded. “Give or take a few months.”

Lance closed his eyes and let out a sigh. This was a mistake. He was making a huge mistake. He knew it. But still, he found himself saying, “Fine, I’ll let you help me to the edge of the forest. After that, we’re done.”

“I guarantee you’ll change your mind by then.” Keith said, no malice behind his words, only a small challenge. 

Lance opened his eyes, scanning them over Keith’s form once more. “Doubtful.”

Keith seemed to regard him once more as well before moving closer to Lance, hand extended. Lance hesitated for a moment, debating on whether he should listen to the warning bells going off in his head. 

“My job is to protect.” Keith said, noticing his hesitation. “I can’t do that unless you let me.”

Lance clenched his jaw as he placed his hand in Keith’s, bracing himself for the bright lights that filled the small forest clearing. 

Just as before, a black staff appeared in his hand, looking even more elegant than it had the first time Lance had seen it. The black wood looked smoother, newer, like someone had taken to polishing it. He could feel the surge of magical energy come forth from the staff, coursing up his arm and spreading through his veins. 

_ “To the edge of the forest?” _

Lance resisted the shiver that threatened to run up his spine from the phantom voice in his head. “To the edge of the forest.”

\-----

All things considered, the forest was as peaceful as Lance remembered. Streams of sunlight filtered in from the canopy above, spilling onto the vegetation below. He passed thick trunks as he walked, the trees stretching far up above his head, grasping for the heavens with their twisted branches. The sounds of wildlife circulated around him, birds chirping in the treetops and squirrels scuttling across the mossy floor. The smell of wildflowers and dew filled the air, creating a sense of calm that rested upon his shoulders.

He could tell that an ancient magic resided in the forest. It couldn’t be seen, but he could feel it in the small creeks that wound their way around the roots that stuck out of the ground, in the rich green that the leaves took on even after they fell to the ground, in the breeze that drifted through, carrying a tranquility with it that was only ever read about. He could understand why Keith would make a place like this his home. It was isolated but alive. It was as if the forest itself was breathing, inhaling with the silence and exhaling with the life all around him. 

There was silence between the two as Lance walked, using Keith to help him traverse the more uneven parts of the forest. Occasionally, a large root or fallen log would block his path. And while before he would have to find a way around, his legs not strong enough to make the small climb, he found that with Keith’s support he could clamber over in no time. 

The energy he felt at Keith’s transformation was still there, buzzing beneath his skin. He tried to ignore it, not wanting to fall to temptation. He knew that he should avoid using Keith if he could. It would be easier to say goodbye that way. But if he came across something...unsavory, he doubted he’d have little choice but to use Keith. 

And that scared him. 

Keith was an anomaly. By all rights, he shouldn’t exist. Lance had heard of weapons that had voices all their own, but never had those voices had a physical body like Keith did. So that led him to the question of what exactly Keith was? A person? Something divine? A demon? Lance didn’t know and the thought of just asking Keith made him a little sick. He didn’t trust him. Not yet at least. 

“So…” Lance said, drawing out the word. “How old are you exactly?”

_ “Do you really wanna know?”  _ Keith replied, voice sounding clear in Lance’s head. 

“Sure. Why not?” Lance said with a slight shrug. 

_ “Well, I lost count a couple hundred years ago but somewhere around four thousand years old...I think?”  _

Lance almost choked on his spit in surprise, trying to cover it up with a cough. “Four…? Holy shit! That’s so old!”

_ “To you maybe. Humans have such short lifespans.”  _ Keith replied casually. 

“Sorry we can’t all be weird magical weapons.” Lance muttered, this not being the first time he’d heard a comment like that. Many of the elves and dwarves he met in his years of travel had said the exact same thing. It was irritating, but not untrue. Comparatively, human lives were nothing. Barely a blip to the larger world. “So I’m guessing you’re like immortal or something?”

_ “Immortal? Maybe. Don’t know.”  _

“How can you not know?” Lance asked, glancing at the staff in his hand. 

_ “Do you know how long you’re gonna live?”  _ Keith asked in response. 

“Well, kinda. About a hundred years if I’m lucky.” Lance said with a shrug of his shoulders. 

_ “And you know that because…?”  _

“Because that’s how long other humans live.” Lance answered. 

_ “And how many other shapeshifting magical weapons have you come across?” _

“...None…” Lance said, starting to see where Keith was going with this line of questioning. 

_ “That’s because I’m one of a kind...at least I’m pretty sure I am. So with nothing else to base it off of, how the hell am I supposed to know when I might die?”  _

“Okay, okay, I see your point. But, you can die, yeah? You’re not indestructible?” 

There was a pause before Keith answered,  _ “I can die. Almost have a few times. But it’s your job to make sure that I don’t.” _

“I thought it was  _ your  _ job to keep  _ me  _ alive.” Lance said. 

_ “And you think I’m doing that for free? This is a two-way street.”  _ Keith replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“...fair enough.” Lance said, not sure if he believed that was the only price he’d have to pay. 

A silence fell between them again as Lance continued his trek through the forest. He found his thoughts continuing to swirl around Keith. He wanted to understand what he was. How did someone like him come into existence anyway? But the more Lance knew, the less likely he would be able to just walk away. 

And besides, it wasn’t like Keith was jumping at the chance to explain anything. He didn’t seem like the kinda person that started conversations...or liked to talk about himself much. It wasn’t that he was guarded, but rather just reserved - probably a result of living in isolation for the last fifty-seven years. 

Still, the silence was awkward and as much as Lance hated it, he found himself asking another question. 

“So, you said that you were waiting for me…” 

_ “I did.” _

“And you knew my name without me saying it…”

_ “You’re just stating facts at this point.” _

“I’m getting there!” Lance snapped. “My question is why? Why me? And how? How did you know my name?”

_ “Why? Dunno. I never know why, but usually by the end I can figure it out.”  _

“The end?” 

_ “When the wielder dies.”  _ Keith clarified.  _ “By then it’s pretty clear what made them worthy.” _

“So something about me is worthy?” Lance asked, his voice sounding somewhat small. 

_ “Seems so...as hard as that is to believe.”  _

Lance didn’t even attempt to offer a witty retort to Keith’s jab, too lost in his own thoughts. ‘Worthy’ was a strong word, not one that should be thrown around loosely. And it definitely wasn’t one that he attributed to himself. Lance considered himself many things, but worthy wasn’t one of them. 

That had been a hard lesson to learn. 

Having arcane power wasn’t uncommon. Magic was widely studied by those who had the ability. And as with anything, there were different levels of magic users - some would even say a hierarchy. At the top sat the divine users, those who called upon the gods to assert their will. They were rare and as such were placed on the highest, most respected pedestal. Below them were the healers followed by necromancy, conjuration, transfiguration, illusion, and at the very bottom sat elemental. That’s where Lance was. At the bottom. 

All his life he’d been taught that elemental magic was nothing special. The elements were easy to manipulate, willing. Hardly any skill was needed to shoot lightning from his hand or hurl a ball of fire. To most other arcane users, it was child’s play. As easy as lacing up a boot or watering a garden. Every caster knew elemental magic in some form or another. Most moved onto another one of the disciplines within their first few years of study. 

But not Lance. 

No matter how hard he studied, he had never been able to move up the ranks. The other magics were lost on him, as if they were locked behind some door that he didn’t have the key to. He didn’t think he’d ever be more than just some lowly elemental user. And, in time, he had grown to accept that. Instead of trying to master some new magic that would forever be out of his reach, he began to travel. He decided that he’d rather focus his time on something he could understand, something he could achieve. 

But he supposed he wasn’t really worthy of that either. A few years down the road and he was cursed, his legs far too weak to carry him to the distant places he wanted to go. 

So no, ‘worthy’ and Lance didn’t go together. Keith would understand that soon enough. 

“What about the how part?” Lance asked, wanting to draw his thoughts away from that particular train. 

_ “It usually comes in a vision after a wielder dies. It’s just a face and a name. That’s all I get. Don’t know when they’ll show up, but they always come eventually.” _

“And it took me fifty-seven years to show up?” 

_ “Yeah, which is just slightly longer than the usual. Way to drag your feet.”  _ Keith replied dryly. Lance was starting to get the feeling that dry sarcasm was Keith’s default state...a little odd considering he was this all-powerful weapon. 

“Cursed legs, remember? I can’t walk that fast.” Lance replied, a small smirk playing on his lips. Two could play at that game. 

He couldn’t see Keith’s face, but he imagined the raven-haired man rolling his eyes. The thought alone brought Lance’s mood up a few pegs. 

“By the way, I thought you said that you were gonna help me with that problem. Support me or whatever.”

_ “I am. Are you seriously that oblivious?”  _

“What? You mean being my walking stick? Gee, thanks. That helped so much.” Lance replied, not putting any feeling into his words. 

_ “Gods save me my new wielder is an idiot.”  _ Keith said, sighing. 

“I heard that!” Lance shot at him, sending a fiery glare at the staff.

_ “I know.”  _ Keith replied, not sounding the least bit sorry.  _ “Do me a favor and focus on your legs. How do they feel?”  _

Lance did as he was told, curious as to what Keith was talking about. He turned his attention to his wrapped shins and bare feet. He could feel the curse pulsing within him, the black magic corrupting his vein, draining whatever strength he had. By now it was a familiar sensation, one that he often tried to ignore. 

But there was also something else, something new. It felt...brighter, livelier. It didn’t overpower the dark magic by any means, but it slowed it. The pulsing wasn’t as fast as it normally was, the sapping power of the curse wasn’t working as quickly as he was used to. The weakness he had felt for months was lifted, a small amount of strength returning to the limbs. He wasn’t by any means back to normal, but it was the closest he’d been in a long time. 

“Is that...you? A-Are you doing that?”

_ “It’s not much, I know. And it’s really only temporary. I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t fix the curse, but I can make it more manageable...at least while I have direct contact with you.”  _ There was a certain guilt behind Keith’s words, a regret that Lance couldn’t fully comprehend.  __

“No...no, this is great!” Lance said quickly, not sure why he felt the urge to make Keith feel better. “That seriously helps. How long can you keep this up exactly?” 

_ “As long as I need to really.”  _ Keith replied.  _ “It’s pretty basic divine magic. Beginner stuff. Removing a curse? That’s a lot harder.”  _

Lance stopped walking, moving the staff so it was out in front of him. “Divine magic? You have divine magic? You’re shitting me, right?” 

_ “Powerful weapon, remember? I have all types of magic. Believe it or not there’s only so much one can do while sitting around in some forest waiting for a wielder to show up.” _

“So, wait wait...can I use divine magic through you?” Lance asked, not able to help the excitement that was building inside him. 

_ “Do you know divine magic?”  _

A frown crossed his face. “No.”

_ “Then no. I can only amplify your skills, not grant you new ones. The magic I use can’t be shared.”  _ Keith replied. 

Lance clicked his tongue in annoyance before continuing to move forward. “Damn, that would’ve been so cool.” 

_ “Right…”  _ He said, the conversation coming to a close once more. Lance expected there to be silence again, but instead was surprised when Keith spoke.  _ “So, you’re a caster.” _

“Is it your turn to just state facts?” Lance quipped. 

A small huff sounded in his mind before Keith continued.  _ “I’ve seen you use elemental magic which isn’t surprising considering every caster can master it. But what else can you do? What other type of magic?”  _

Lance let out a cynical bark of laughter. “The list is pretty short. You about summed it up already.”

There was a pause, Lance letting Keith process. 

_ “Only...elemental?”  _

“Only elemental.”

_ “Have you tried-” _

“More times than you can possibly imagine.”

_ “But you just-” _

“Only elemental.” Lance repeated, a bitter taste in his mouth. “Sorry to break it to you, but your wielder - if I even am one - is pretty pathetic. Not a strong caster by anyone’s definition  _ and _ cursed! You’ve really hit the jackpot!”

_ “That’s not...I didn’t-” _

“Just drop it, okay? I know who I am. And I don’t need anybody, especially you, to feel sorry for me. I accepted my limitations a long time ago.” 

Keith was silent, not seeming to know what to say. Lance imagined he was trying to come to terms with his disappointment. He was sure that Keith had belonged to many powerful wielders in the past - far more powerful than Lance at least. What a letdown it must be to be stuck with an elemental caster. Talk about unworthy. Lance could think of so many other casters that would be worthy to wield Kei’rethem. He would be so much more useful in their hands. Lance wouldn’t be surprised if Keith demanded he turn around and take him home right now. 

Instead, all Keith said was,  _ “We’re approaching troll territory. Be on your guard. And if we have to fight them, don’t drop me.” _

“But-”

_ “Divine, elemental, it doesn’t matter.”  _ Keith cut him off, words sharp. He sounded angry, but Lance didn’t think it was directed at him. _ “I said I’d protect you. Whether you like it or not, you were chosen to be my wielder. So fucking deal with it.” _

Lance was startled silent for a moment, thoughts trying to comprehend Keith words. Finally, he swallowed and then said in a small voice. “Troll territory, you said?”

_ “Troll territory. Try not to become their dinner this time, okay?” _

“Yeah, sure.” Lance said, mind still reeling. “That sounds like a good plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! This little project of mine is developing quite nicely if I do say so myself (she says after having only written two chapters).  
> Any and all feedback you are willing and able to give is greatly appreciated!  
> Stay safe and I'll see ya next time!
> 
> ~Redjay


	3. Using You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which limitations lead to the use of untapped power and promises that for now will remain unbroken

The sun was dropping low on the horizon as Lance made his way through troll territory. The small patches of sky he could see through the canopy had gone from a clear blue to vibrant shades of orange and purple - a sign that night wasn’t too far off. Lance hoped that he could make it through the rest of the troll’s territory before it got too dark.

The sounds of the forest had started to quiet with the setting sun, the many critters retreating into their dens and nests for the night. Even the breeze that had been ever-present had died down as if it too was retiring for an evening’s rest. Lance wished he could do the same, even the added power of Keith’s magic in his legs not enough to stop the ache that signaled his waning strength. But he knew that stopping now left him open to the possibility of being attacked in his sleep again. So the young caster grit his teeth and pushed forward.

His blue eyes shifted around the scenery surrounding him, searching for any out of place shadows or looming figures. He truly didn’t want to run into the trolls again knowing that things probably wouldn’t go well for him if he did. He moved from tree to tree, hugging the trunks as he went so as to gain some cover from any eyes that might be watching him.

He still gripped the black staff in his hand, the hum of arcane energy present just beneath his skin. Despite having hours to get used to the sensation, Lance found himself still awed by the sheer amount of power that Keith emitted. It was almost overwhelming, drowning out the small amount of his own arcane energies that flowed through his veins. And while his curiosity wanted him to tap into Keith’s power, to call forth the immense strength that was Kei’rethem, he knew better. Temptation was a monster better left unfaced, a lesson he had learned the hard way.

The air around him started to drop in temperature, the chill of night seeping into the thin layers of his clothing and numbing his toes. With his free hand he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, not able to use his usual methods to warm himself. He knew he was still running close to empty and it would be at least another day before he felt it was safe enough to tap into his magic once more. So he would forgo his fire-skin spell and just deal with it. A little cold never really hurt anyone anyway.

“So tell me something.” Lance whispered, looking for some semblance of a distraction from his uncomfortable state and only finding it in the weird weapon in his hand. “How’d you find me? Back with the trolls, I mean. I was pretty far from your little hut.”

 _“Trolls are loud when they’re angry.”_ Came the response in his head. _“Not to mention that you weren’t exactly subtle with that lightning you were throwing around. I could see it from like a mile away.”_

Lance clicked his tongue in annoyance before saying, “Well, I was a little distracted. Next time I’ll put subtlety first and survival second.”

 _“That’s not what I meant.”_ Keith said, sounding tired. _“It was probably better that you weren’t subtle anyway. I might not have found you then.”_

Lance only hummed in response, knowing that Keith had a point but not wanting to openly agree with him.

 _“Things rarely happen this deep in the forest,”_ Keith continued. _“I had a feeling that it was you...or something that would lead me to you. Turns out I was right.”_

“I’ve always had a knack for making great first impressions.” Lance whispered dryly.

 _"It was definitely...different.”_ Keith replied. _“I’ve had wielders die on me, but usually not before I at least meet them. Way to be ahead of the game.”_

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.” Lance replied, an amused smirk appearing on his face.

_“Clearly.”_

Lance chuckled slightly at the dry reply moments before he rounded another trunk of a tree, eyes spotting something familiar. “I know this place.”

Lance scanned the nearby surroundings for a moment, deeming it safe enough to approach the small campsite that was set up a good hundred feet away. It was situated under a large tree, a spot that Lance had chosen for its cover from the harsh wind that had been blowing through. A small fire pit sat a few feet out from the tree, black ash the only sign that it had ever been used. Next to it stood a tent, the tan fabric ripped and torn from his first encounter with the trolls. A small pack lay scattered a short distance from the campsite, Lance remembering that he had dropped it in his struggle.

 _“For future reference, I wouldn’t recommend setting up camp in troll territory. At least not if you’re alone.”_ Keith said, his voice ringing with amusement.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Lance grumbled as he stepped towards the pack. A few of its contents were scattered, but it seemed like most of it had remained untouched. He bet that trolls had little use for human things. He dropped to his knees to see how damaged it was, saying, “Hold on for a sec, I’m gonna set you down.”

_“Don’t-”_

Keith’s voice was cut off as Lance laid the staff gently across the grass next to him. Almost instantaneously the magic hum inside him stopped, leaving him almost hollow feeling. He could still feel the prickle of his own power, but it seemed too dim compared to the force that had been housed within him all day. The ache in his legs intensified with the absence of Keith’s magic, the dark energy shooting through his veins much faster than it had been.

“Shit…” Lance muttered through gritted teeth, falling forward onto his hands. Pain coursed up and down his shins, far more unbearable than anything he had felt in a long time. It had been months since he had pushed himself this far.

Glancing around in desperation, he spotted the staff lying on the ground next to him. With a shaky hand the caster reached out, fingers grasping the smooth ebony wood.

 _“Moron.”_ Echoed through his head as Keith’s energy flowed through him once more, the warmth winding its way through his muscles and settling in his legs. He could feel the black magic fading slightly, once more coming under Keith’s control. The ache dulled, allowing Lance to push himself back to his knees.

“Shit…” Lance said again, taking a few deep breaths. “That really sucked…”

 _“I tried to stop you.”_ Keith said, sounding mostly irritated but also concerned. _“I can’t help you if I’m not touching you.”_

“It was so fast.” Lance said, eyes staring at the dark staff which was now only illuminated by the moonbeams that filtered down from above. “You were just gone.”

 _“I’m not a miracle worker. Even I have my limitations.”_ Keith replied.

“And you didn’t mention that before because…?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow at the staff in his hands.

 _“I didn’t think I had to. I mean it’s really only common sense.”_ Keith replied, voice a little harsher than before.

“You’re some mystical weapon! The laws of common sense don’t really apply to you!” Lance shot at him defensively. “It’s not my fault I don’t automatically know all the ins and outs of wielding you. It wasn’t like there was a class back at the academy called How To Use A Four-Thousand-Year-Old Weapon That Can Talk And Is Also Kinda A Jerk 101!”

A heavy sigh sounded in his head. _“This is all backwards. Usually there’s time between meeting a wielder and actually doing stuff to figure things out. But you just had to jump right in, didn’t you?”_

“Uh, in case you forgot, you _asked_ to come along. So don’t blame this on me.”

_“You were gonna just walk away after making me wait fifty-seven years! What was I supposed to do?”_

Lance didn’t respond to that, instead just glaring at the staff. He had half a mind to just drop Keith and walk away - the only thing stopping him being that stupid curse in his legs.

 _“Look, clearly you’re in no condition to continue on.”_ Keith said, his voice much calmer than it had been a few moments ago. _“Let’s make camp here for the night and continue on in the morning.”_

“You just told me to not make camp in troll territory.” Lance pointed out, anger not quite yet subsided.

 _“Alone.”_ Keith replied. _“Don’t make camp alone. But you’re not alone, are you?”_

Lance let out a sarcastic snort. “And what makes you think I trust you to stand watch?”

_“What other choice do you have? Walking much further could do some serious damage to your legs and then you’d be stranded in troll territory. Is that what you want?”_

Lance’s glare hardened, knowing that Keith had a point. “Fine. We’ll camp here. But if we get killed by trolls, I’m finding you in the afterlife and killing you myself.”

A small chuckled echoed in his head. _“Yeah, sure. That sounds fair.”_

Lance didn’t let go of Keith once while he prepared the small camp. Keith assured him that the forest trolls had probably retreated to their den for the night, not being nocturnal creatures. While that did make him feel slightly better, he often found himself scanning the surrounding darkness just in case.

His former tent was completely destroyed, but the bed roll inside was intact enough to use as a makeshift bed for him to sleep on. He had enough of his own energy to create a small flame in the fire pit, making sure to pull from his own strength and not Keith’s. If his companion noticed, nothing was said. He found that the rations that had been stored in his pack remained unspoiled and untouched. A bit of luck that he thanked the gods for. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten and found his mouth watering just at the sight of the food.

It was only when he had propped himself up against the trunk of the large tree, slowly chewing on the dried fruit he found in his pack, did he hear Keith’s voice in his head once more.

_“Shield your eyes.”_

“You’re transforming here?” Lance asked, eyes darting around the area again. “You could lead someone here.”

 _“I told you. The trolls are in for the night and nothing would dare venture into their territory. At least nothing that wants to keep living. It’s safe. Shield your eyes.”_ Keith explained, not doing a good job at hiding the impatience in his voice.

“Alright, alright. Whatever you say…” Lance muttered, shutting his eyes. A moment passed before he felt a shift; what was once firm wood in his hands was now soft skin, warm compared to the night air.

“You can open your eyes.” He heard Keith’s deep, rich voice say out loud instead of in his head.

Blue eyes met indigo as Lance complied, Keith’s human form now kneeling next to him. The light of the fire illuminated his features, oranges and yellows dancing across his raven-hair and porcelain skin. Lance had almost forgotten how piercing those eyes were, like they were seeing right into his very soul. He found himself shrinking slightly under the gaze, trying to shield himself. He instinctively tried to pull his hand away, wanting to put some distance between himself and the unnatural presence of Keith.

“No.” Keith said firmly, gripping Lance’s hand tighter. “Remember what happened the last time you tried that?”

“I can take care of myself.” Lance replied, voice steely. “I don’t need you to baby me.”

“I’m not.” Keith replied, rolling his eyes. “Merely trying to keep you alive...almost like it’s my job or something.”

“Does your job description also say you have to be a massive prick all the time?” Lance asked mockingly, not attempting to remove his hand from Keith’s. He might not like the guy, but he was the only thing keeping Lance from spending his night fighting off the painful exhaustion in his legs.

“Only to certain people.” Keith replied smoothly.

“Fantastic…” Lance said, adding an extra layer of sarcasm to the word.

The conversation died, a silence stretching between the two. Lance could hear the sounds of the forest nightlife start to pick up. The distant call of an owl. The occasional frog croak. The rhythmic buzzing of cicadas. The sounds brought with them a sort of peace, a serenity that drifted through the night air effortless.

Lance could feel the heat of the small fire a few feet off warm his skin, forcing away the chill that had taken hold of him. A thin plume of smoke curled its way up toward the treetops, disappearing from sight after only a few feet. The small pops and crackles that accompanied the flames gave a certain comfort, a reminder of his childhood spent at home. A pile of children all huddled around the fireplace, listening to stories of great adventure and mystical wonders told to them by his grandmother.

A soft expression crossed his face as he recalled the memory, nostalgia worming its way into his soul. If only she could see him now. He wondered if she’d be disappointed in him. Sure, he had gone out to explore the world. He’d been to so many places in his five short years of travel, but at what cost? Had he lost sight of what adventure meant? Had he missed the point of her stories? The heroes always came out unscathed and ready for the next adventure. But he hadn’t...and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see what was further down the road for him.

Lance’s eyes shifted towards his wrapped shins. The white linen bands had grown darker, the dirt and moss of the forest floor staining them. He knew what lay beneath those bands, he could feel the curse working its way through his veins. He didn’t know what to do about it anymore. His solution had gone completely out the window. He doubted the creature would offer another deal and he wasn’t in that big of a rush to go see it again. And the waiting list for meeting with the High Diviners was years long. He didn’t want to live like this for years. He didn’t want to live like this now.

What a terrible situation he had gotten himself into.

“Can I see?”

Lance tore his gaze away from his legs, shifting it so he was looking at his new companion. Keith wasn’t looking at him, his eyes instead fixated on where Lance had been looking moments ago. His expression was unreadable, but there had been a tenderness to his voice that caught Lance off guard.

“You want to see my legs?” Lance asked, voice quiet enough so as not to break the serenity of the night.

Keith nodded, indigo eyes finally meeting blue. “If you’ll let me. I’m guessing you keep them covered for a reason.”

Lance hesitated, uncertainty swirling in his head. He rarely showed people the curse. It was a sore spot for him, a shame. It was a representation of his carelessness, of the mistakes that he had made. And while he knew Keith had felt the power of the curse, seeing it manifested was entirely different.

“You don’t have to show me.” Keith said, probably noticing Lance’s hesitation. “I was just curious.”

Lance glanced down at his legs once more, biting his bottom lip in thought. Keith could use divine magic. He already said he couldn’t get rid of the curse, but maybe seeing it would help him control it even more. Or maybe he could see a solution that Lance couldn’t. And if not, what harm had been done? It wasn’t like Keith interacted with a bunch of people. He wouldn’t be going around spreading the tale of how Lance was cursed.

“No, it’s okay.” Lance finally said, nodding his head towards his outstretched legs. “Be my guest.”

Keith gave him a surprised look, slight confusion swirling in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Lance gave a half-hearted shrug. “Why not? Nothing’s gonna change just ‘cause you looked at my legs.”

Keith studied Lance’s face for a moment before seeming to come to the conclusion that he really didn’t mind. “I’ll have to break contact for a moment. Will you be okay?”

“Oh please,” Lance said lightly, waving his hand. “A little soreness won’t bother me.”

“It bothered you before.” Keith pointed out.

“I just wasn’t ready.” Lance countered, eyes not meeting Keith’s. “But I am this time so have at it!”

Keith seem to regard Lance for a few more moments before saying, “Alright. If you say so.”

Keith pulled his hand away from Lance’s, the magical hum dying inside him once more. Lance clenched his jaw as the warmth of Keith’s divine magic faded from his legs, his exhausted muscles starting to radiate pain again. He dug his fingers into the grass, trying desperately to keep himself from moving, knowing that it would only amplify the pain.

He watched as Keith shifted towards his feet, expression unreadable again. With gentle hands he folded the bottom of Lance’s left pant leg up so it rested just above the knee, a tingling sensation left wherever Keith’s fingers brushed his exposed skin. He then untied the small knots on the back of Lance’s leg, eyes occasionally glancing up at Lance to see if he was okay. They came untied easily enough, allowing Keith to remove the rest of the wrappings. His fingers worked nimbly to unwind the cloth, only hesitating for a moment as the first signs of the curse became visible.

Flush, tan skin turned to a dull grey under the firelight. Pitch black veins crawled their way up his shin, more jagged than the natural veins that ran throughout his body. There was a life within the veins, a movement of dark energy that flowed through him like blood. He could feel the pulsing of the curse, a dark heartbeat resonating outward. As Keith uncovered more of his legs, eventually pulling the wrappings completely off, Lance could see the veins stretching over his foot before stopping at the base of his toes.

Keith didn’t say anything as his eyes scanned over Lance’s leg, only lifting his hands to lay them gently over the afflicted skin. Divine energy flowed into him once more as Keith traced his fingers over the veins, a warmth flowing in tangent with the curse. Lance wanted to pull away from his touch, never having let anyone get that close to the curse before, but he remained still, letting Keith study its manifestation.

“You must’ve angered something pretty powerful...and old.” Keith said, breaking the silence. His tone was casual, not giving away any of what he was actually thinking. “It’s been a long time since I’ve come across anyone with this type of curse.”

“Yeah, I learned the hard way that ancient beings can be a real pain in the ass.” Lance replied lightly, hoping that his tone covered up his slight discomfort.

“And you say it was looking for me?”

“Seems so. Unless there’s some other super powerful weapon in this forest that I don’t know about.”

Keith let out a breathy chuckle and shook his head. “It’s only me. I’ve had others come looking for me who aren’t wielders, but never anything ancient. That’s...new. I don’t think anything good would come of me falling into its hands.”

“Well, my plan is to stay far far _far_ away from it. You might want to do the same.” Lance said matter-of-factly.

Indigo eyes flashed up to meet his, a raw emotion that Lance couldn’t place swirling deep within his irises. “Yeah.” He said, tone somewhat clipped. “Probably best.”

Keith pulled his hands from Lance’s leg, the pain now reemerging with the absence of the divine magic. Without another word, Keith started to rewrap Lance’s leg, making sure the cloth was situated tightly around the grey skin. The silence was awkward as Keith worked, a bizarre tension forming between the two.

Lance cleared his throat, pulling forth another question he had in hopes that it would alleviate the thick atmosphere. “So what are those limitations you mentioned? It’s probably important I know them going forward, yeah? Just in case.”

Keith finished tying off the wrapping and then sat back on his knees. His expression was back to its normal dry look. “You sure you don’t just wanna keep stumbling across them? It’s definitely funnier that way.”

“Yeah, thanks but I’ll pass on that.” Lance replied flatly.

A half-smirk appeared on Keith’s face as he moved back to sit next to Lance, laying a hand on Lance’s forearm this time instead of taking his hand. Lance barely even noticed as the arcane hum returned, now somewhat used to its presence. “There’s really only three big ones...one which you already figured out.”

“Physical contact?” Lance guessed.

Keith nodded, eyes focused on the fire instead of Lance. “I can’t talk to you or help you or...pretty much do anything if I’m not touching you. But that’s really only in my weapon form. Outside of that, my magic works like anyone else’s.”

“That doesn’t seem like that bad of a limitation.” Lance commented casually.

“It’s definitely the better of the three.” Keith agreed. “The second one has led to some...complications in the past.”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked curiously.

Keith paused for a moment, seeming to try to get his thoughts in order. “I think…” Keith started, speaking slowly. “Whoever created me knew that no great power in this world could go unchecked. I needed something to make sure I wouldn’t upset the balance too much.”

Lance nodded, understanding. Too much power often led to unnecessary agony and innocent deaths.

“And so my transformations were limited.” Keith continued. “I can only change form while being touched by my wielder. It doesn’t work for anyone else.”

“...and that’s led to complications?” Lance asked, somewhat confused.

Keith let out a spiteful huff. “More than you can imagine. I’ve had a lot of wielders fall in battle from something or another. Do you know how common it is for people to just drop their weapons when they die?”

“My guess is pretty common…” Lance answered hesitantly.

“Every damn time.” Keith replied forcefully, glaring into the fire. “And with no new wielder, I’m just stuck like that. For years.”

“Wait, wait, wait...what happens if someone that’s not your wielder...uses you?” Lance asked, feeling like his phrasing was slightly off.

“Nothing really.” Keith replied with a shrug. “I can’t talk to them, but they can still draw from my power, albeit only a small portion of it.”

Lance hummed in response, trying to comprehend and process Keith’s words.

“Other times…” Keith trailed off, a certain pain crossing his face. “Other times wielders are more…harsh.”

“Harsh?” Lance asked, not sure he really wanted to know what that meant just based on the expression on Keith’s face.

“Yeah…” Keith replied, voice much quieter than before. “They want the power but not the person that comes along with it.”

Lance’s eyes grew wide, a nausea starting to turn in his stomach at Keith’s words. “How...I mean...that’s…”

“Awful? Yeah, I know.” Keith said, resting his head back against the trunk of the tree. “Being kept in weapon form for half a century or however long the wielder lives is...not fun.”

“But I thought you said all of your wielders are worthy or whatever.” Lance said, finding himself growing angry.

Keith let out a cynical snort. “Just because someone is worthy doesn’t mean they’re a good person. I learned that the hard way.”

“Didn’t you fight back? O-Or just transform anyways?” Lance was almost shaking from his anger. “I mean, even if they don’t want you to transform, all it takes is physical contact, right? A-And they have to touch you to use your full power so...?”

Keith looked at Lance for the first time, some kind of softness in his eyes. “Remember I said there were three limitations? The third is that I can’t harm my wielder in any way. So yeah, I could’ve transformed back if I wanted to, but how well do you think it would work out if I put this form directly into the hands of someone who I couldn’t touch but could very easily hurt me?”

Lance didn’t answer, his anger growing with every word Keith said. It wasn’t at Keith himself, but at the wielders who thought themselves above regular human decency.

“You don’t have to answer.” Keith said quietly. “I already know.” With his free hand Keith reached up and traced a finger down the scar that ran across the right side of his face. “But there’s only been a few wielders like that. Most allow me to shift freely.”

“ _Allow_ you?” Lance said, tone fiery. It wasn’t really a question.

“That’s what I said.” Keith replied, his own voice much calmer than Lance’s. “Being some powerful weapon doesn’t grant as much freedom as you’d think.”

Lance felt some switch in him flip, like a spark had ignited inside him. A mixture of anger, frustration, sorrow, and a million other things flowed through him, stoking the flames that flickered in his soul. He felt the building of his arcane energy and didn’t try to stop it this time. He was too angry. He let the power come forth, lighting up the veins on his arms with a deep blue. He couldn’t see it, but he knew that his eyes were brightening with his arcane power. He could feel the buzz of electricity start to move down his arms, manifesting into small balls of lightning between his tensed fingers.

“Lance…?” He heard Keith asked hesitantly, no doubt noticing the build of power in the caster. “What’s…? What’re…?”

Lance didn’t respond, jaw clenched too tightly. He could still feel the hum of Keith’s energy within him and didn’t even hesitate to draw on it, adding and mixing it to his own. The two flowed into each other, turning the lighting that crackled in his fingers a dark red.

He could feel Keith’s eyes on him, but the raven-haired man stayed silent as wind started to pick up around them, the gusts much harsher than the breeze that had been present earlier that day. It picked up the scattered leaves on the ground and tore them from the trees, sending them shooting upwards towards the dark clouds that had started to form in the sky above them. The small campfire was snuffed out in a matter of moments as the wind picked up even more, gathering and swirling around the small area. It tore at Lance’s clothes and threatened to pull his hat off his head.

He didn’t back down.

Thunder crashed overhead, a rain starting to fall from the mass of dark clouds that could be seen through the trees. The beads of water rocketed to the ground, stinging his skin and blurring his vision. Still, the power within him grew as he pulled more and more of Keith’s strength in. The arcane energy was all he could feel, the hum turning into a roar. It built until he felt like he was going to tear at the seams and burst.

Only then did he release the energy.

With one motion he slammed his fist on the ground next to him, sending everything he had into that one gesture. And as his fist connected with the ground, a thick column of red lightning came striking down from the storm, slamming into the ground thirty feet away from them with a force that momentary killed the wind and stopped the rain. Thunder raged in the sky as the lighting cascaded over the earth, red sparks flying in every direction. The hairs on Lance’s arm stood up from the static electricity that radiated off of the blast.

And as the last of the gathered energy was released from Lance’s grasp, the bolt died, the last bits of electricity skirting across the ground before dissipating. The rain subsided, the wind dying down to a gentle breeze before fading completely. The sky cleared, the thunderous rumbles stopping almost as quickly as they had started. The ground beneath where the strike had hit was now black, the patterns of the electricity burned into the very dirt.

Lance found himself breathing hard, his anger not subsided, but quelled for the moment. He felt good. He felt really good. He’d never been able to summon a storm like that before. He could still feel Keith’s hand on his arm, fingers slightly gripping his wrist.

“I will _never_ stop you from shifting forms.” Lance said, tone low and dangerous. “And not because I’m _allowing_ you to shift, but because I don’t get a say in whatever form you decide to take on.” Lance paused, giving himself a moment to take a few deep breaths. “And if I do, whatever worthiness I had to be your wielder is gone.”  Lance knew this was no longer about him wanting to be a wielder or not. This was about showing Keith what a wielder should be.

Keith’s gaze shifted from Lance’s face to the black spot on the ground not too far from them and then back to Lance. In the end all he said was, “No one will ever look down on your elemental abilities again. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!  
> I don't think I've mentioned this yet but I have no idea how many chapters this things is gonna be. It's not that long and at the moment it's all planned out, but I'm notorious for adding extra stuff along the way so I honestly have no clue. So when I know, you'll know.  
> As always, any and all feedback you are willing and able to give is greatly appreciated.  
> Stay safe and I'll see ya next time!
> 
> ~Redjay


	4. Protecting You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an unwelcome visitor foreshadows an impending doom and secrets are kept for better or for worse.

“After tonight, we never speak of this again. Ever. It never happened. Okay?” 

Lance could hear a quiet chuckle come from the raven-haired man. “It’s not my fault you basically told the whole forest where we were.” 

Lance let out an irritated huff. “You could’ve just pulled your hand away and nothing would’ve happened.”

“I could’ve, but where’s the fun in that?” Keith replied, amusement evident in his voice. 

Lance huffed again, pulling gently on one of the thick strands of black hair that rested against Keith’s collar. “You’re the worst. This is so humiliating…”

“Do you want me to set you down? Make you walk?” Keith asked, sounding like he already knew the answer. 

Lance’s only response was a long whine followed by him dropping his head onto Keith’s shoulder. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” 

Lance didn’t lift his head as Keith continued moving through the dark forest, footsteps almost too quiet for him to hear. He could feel the slow rise and fall of Keith’s shoulders as he clung to his back, the steady cadence enough to draw forth the exhaustion that ran through the caster’s body. 

It had been stupid of him use his magic even with the added strength of Keith...but he didn’t regret it. In the moment, it had felt right. Like it was supposed to happen. And while it had definitely been him in control, there was a soft voice in the back of his mind that told him something greater than himself had been waiting a long time for that union of power. He didn’t know what. He didn’t know who. But something had started to move forward. Towards what end, he had no idea. 

And even though that thought  _ should  _ have scared him, he instead found comfort in the fact that maybe...just maybe...there was some shred of worthiness in him after all. 

A small smile crept across Lance’s face as that barely visible thread of thought wound deeper and deeper into his conscious, entwining itself with the memories of the hours spent trying to cast a spell that just wouldn’t come, of the months spent ignoring pitying looks and whispered rumors, of the years spent thinking that he was broken somehow. It wrapped around each, tightening for a moment before releasing and moving onto the next as if it was somehow trying to squeeze out all the pain he’d endured. 

And as Lance felt himself falling further into the realm of unconsciousness, lulled by Keith’s rhythmic breathing and the continuous hum of energy that pulsed through his arcane veins, he found that his last thoughts weren’t of the curse that plagued his body or the possible dangers that awaited him behind every tree, but of his future and what it would be like to wield Kei’rethem. 

\-----

It was the sound of silence that caused Lance’s eyes to flutter open. Being in the forest for the past however many days - he had honestly lost track at this point - he had grown accustomed to the echoes of life that were ever-present. But as he blinked away the blurriness from his eyes and shifted slightly to stretch out his sore limbs, he couldn’t help but notice how eerily quiet everything was. An unnatural anticipation hung thickly in the air, causing what had been a lush forest to now appear imposing. 

Sitting up slowly, the brunette ran his fingers through his hair a couple times, trying to tame what he was sure was a bad case of bedhead. As he did, his eyes darted around the small clearing he had woken up in, searching for any sign that would explain the bizarre shift in atmosphere. 

He could see no sunlight, its absence making the shadows that clung to the underbrush stretch towards his spot on the ground, claws grasping for him. The branches of the trees that had once offered him protection now loomed over him in a twisted array of finger-like traps, almost daring him to try and escape. 

Lance pushed himself to his feet as terror crept its way outwards from where it'd settled in his chest, turning the warm blood that pumped within him icy. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, the feeling of eyes watching him compelling him to look over his shoulder. He turned abruptly but saw nothing save for the gnarled and jagged trunks of the trees. 

The caster swallowed hard, eyes going wide as he continued to scan the clearing for the danger that seemed to be emanating from all around him. Instinctively he felt himself pulling at the arcane power within him, hands tensing as he readied himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the veins on his arms start to flow with dark blue energy, the current gliding down his tan skin effortlessly. Fire started to flicker in his hands, balls of reds and oranges that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. 

“Keith?” Lance called, noticing that the raven-haired man was nowhere in sight. “Keith, where are you? Could really use some of that power of yours right about now…” A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face as he strained his ears, hoping that he would hear Keith’s voice calling back to him. 

There was nothing. 

“Shit…” Lance muttered to himself, a new pang of fear hitting him in the gut. Where did he go? And why did he leave Lance alone in the middle of a terrifying forest? Had this been his plan all along? Had this whole thing been a trap after all and Lance had just willfully walked right into it? “Shit, shit, shit, shit,  _ shit…” _

“You should be afraid…” 

Lance bristled at the sudden voice that ghosted past his ear, low and menacing. With a yelp, the caster spun, flinging his arm out and hurling a ball of fire in the direction of the sound. The ball burst as it hit one of the nearby trees, flames licking up the ancient bark before sputtering out, an ashen black mark the only thing left behind. 

A callous laugh echoed around the clearing, the sound coming from all directions. It bore into Lance’s very being, instilling him with a dread that only seemed to escalate with each passing second. His breathing became rapid, lungs straining to keep up with his racing heart. 

“The darkness runs deep within you.” The wicked voice said slowly, each word gliding over his skin before digging into his flesh. “I wonder how long until you’re completely consumed...wouldn’t it be fun to find out?”

Lance said nothing in response, voice getting lost in his throat. He wanted to run, to get away from the dominating presence of the voice, but his limbs refused to move. It was as if the wizened roots themselves had grown to entrap him. 

“But...I have other plans for you.” The voice continued, its ambience overpowering any other thought that might’ve been running through Lance’s head. “You’ve found it, haven’t you? Kei’rethem. Just like I asked.”

Lance stiffened, stomach starting to churn as his nerves bubbled and twisted inside him. Still, he said nothing. 

“Don’t try to deny it. I could feel its power as soon you used it.”

He couldn’t help the small gasp of surprise that escaped his lips, eyes widening even further as the words sunk in. 

“Bring it to me.” The voice said louder than before, the slightest hint of urgency lacing its words. “And the curse I’ve placed upon you shall be extinguished.”

“A-And if I don’t?” Lance choked out, voice much weaker than intended. 

Another bone-chilling laugh consumed the area. “I think you’ll find yourself at my doorstep whether you will it or not. Your legs belong to me, after all.”

A sharp pain erupted in his calves, causing an agonized scream to tear from his throat. The caster dropped to his knees as it coursed through his muscles, burning directly down into the bone. 

“Bring it to me.” 

And then the pain stopped, leaving Lance hunched over, breathing heavy from the exhaustion that seemed to writhe within him. 

“But for now...sleep. Sleep, my twisted one. You’ll need your strength to come back to me…”

As the voice faded, Lance felt his will being pulled downward, a dark hand grasping everything he was and leading him deeper within himself. His eyes started to blur, blackness seeping into the edges of his vision. He blinked hard, trying to fight the corrupting force that wound its way into his mind, but found that it only served to speed up the process, to pull him further and further down. 

And moments before Lance was completely consumed by his unconscious, he swore he could hear one singular word whispered from the shadows, hanging heavily in the air.

“Soon.”

\-----

Blue eyes flashed open as Lance shot up, heart beating rapidly in his chest. His hands shook as he grasped the edges of his cloak that had been placed over him, sweat causing his thin clothes to stick to his skin. His breathing was labored, panic swelling inside him and eyes darting around as he tried unsuccessfully to comprehend where he was. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

Lance jumped at the sudden voice, whipping his head around until he spotted a familiar figure seated against a nearby tree. Indigo eyes stared intently at him, a mixture of concern and confusion. 

“Keith?” Lance asked, voice hoarse. “Y-You’re here?” 

Keith cocked his head to the side slightly, his confusion deepening. “Where else would I be?” 

Lance didn’t answer, instead running a hand down his face, fingers digging slightly into his skin. “Oh man…okay...alright…”

“Should I be worried?” Keith asked in an even tone. 

“Good question…” Lance muttered as he stood, leaving his cloak on the ground as he did. Scanning his eyes around, he could see that while he was still in the forest, it no longer resembled the nightmare he had just been in. Warm greens and browns welcomed him, the shadows that had been creeping towards him no longer there. The scent of bark and morning dew clung to the air, a stark contrast to the dead air he had just encountered. A soft breeze brushed past his face, taking with it the terror that he had woken up with.

For the moment, everything seemed normal.  

“Are you normally this jumpy when you wake up?” 

Lance’s gaze shifted back to Keith, who hadn’t moved from his position. He was propped up against a tree with one leg pulled towards him so he could rest an arm on his knee and the other stretched out. There was an intensity in the way he was positioned. At first glance, it would seem like he was relaxed, not really paying too much mind. But as Lance looked closer, he could see the rigidity in Keith’s posture. Body just a little too stiff. Eyes just a little too focused. Keith was ready to pounce. 

“Did you...watch over me the whole night?” Lance asked, completely forgetting whatever Keith had asked him. 

“What? Did you want me to just let the wolves eat you?” Keith responded, expression turning flat. 

“There are  _ wolves _ here?” 

“It’s a forest, Lance.” Keith said dryly. “Honestly, how did you survive before I found you?” 

Lance shot him a glare. “I can take care of myself.”

“Says the guy who had to be carried last night because he couldn’t walk.”

A huff escaped the caster’s lips. “We’re pretending like that never happened!”

“No,  _ you’re  _ pretending like that never happened. I never agreed to that.” Keith replied matter-of-factly. 

“It doesn’t work if only one of us is pretending.” Lance pointed out, the slightest venom to his words. 

“Then maybe you should accept that sometimes you need help.” Keith said calmly, eyes softening just a bit. “You’re cursed. I don’t expect you to be at a hundred percent all the time.”

Lance shifted his gaze to the ground, unable to withstand Keith’s piercing eyes. He knew that Keith had a point. He  _ was _ cursed. There  _ were _ things he couldn’t do. But having spent his whole life having to be at one hundred percent to be taken seriously, it was a hard thing to accept. “Well…” Lance mumbled, still not looking up at Keith. “Thanks...for making sure I didn’t get eaten by wolves...I guess…”

“Careful, I think you’re starting to go soft on me.” Keith replied, tone slightly amused. 

Lance shot him another glare. “I take it back! Un-thank you or whatever.”

“I don’t think you can do that.” Keith said, smirking.

“Well, I just did.” Lance fired back at him, stooping to snatch his hat and cloak from the ground. “Deal with it.”

The smirk didn’t fall from the raven-haired man’s face as he stood. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the forest.”

Lance only grunted in response as he fixed his hat neatly on his head and fastened the cloak around his shoulders. He didn’t want to admit to Keith that he had, in fact, woken up on the wrong side of the forest. The malicious voice still echoed in his head, causing a shiver to run up his spine. He wasn’t sure how he had ended up in that sinister grove, but the sheer memory of it was enough to leave him glancing around more often than what would’ve been deemed normal otherwise. 

There was no doubt in his mind, however, that the creature that cursed him wanted Keith and it seemed pretty damn sure that Lance was gonna just hand him over. And sure, there had been a point where Lance had debated with himself over whether or not he should hand some super powerful weapon over to some super powerful being. 

But now? After meeting Keith and seeing what he could do? After hearing what kind of life Keith had led up until now? After finding someone that was willing to work with him despite his limitations? Delivering Keith into the hands of that monster would be the biggest mistake of his life, even more so than getting cursed. He couldn’t do it. He  _ wouldn’t _ do it. 

As insufferable as Keith was, there was something about him that made Lance want to protect him. He wanted to show Keith what it meant to be free, what it was like to live a life with no strings attached. And so for now, Lance would keep the demands of the creature secret. Not because he thought Keith didn’t need to know, but because Keith deserved a chance to live unencumbered by Lance’s mistakes. 

“Ready to get going?” Keith asked as he brushed some of the dirt from his pants. 

“Yeah, we better. How much longer ‘til the edge of the forest?” Lance replied, looking out at the expanse of trees. 

“About an hour’s walk. Maybe two.” Keith said with a small shrug. 

“What?! How?! Weren’t we just in troll territory?” Lance asked, eyes going wide as he turned to face his companion. 

“We were.” Keith replied, a tiny hint of pride in his tone. “After you fell asleep I decided it might just be faster to keep going.”

“Wait, so you just carried me for miles last night? Are you okay? Do you need to sleep or something?” 

A short laugh came from Keith, a sound that seemed far too musical for his sarcastic nature. “I don’t really do the whole sleeping thing.” 

Lance almost choked on his own spit in surprise. “Ever? Like, you  _ can’t  _ sleep or you  _ don’t  _ sleep? Because there’s a huge difference there.”

“Can’t sleep.” Keith clarified. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m not human...or elven, or really anything else. I don’t work the same way.”

“What about eating? Do you eat?”

“Can I eat? Yes, if I needed to, I could eat something.” Keith replied, tone indicating that he’d answered these exact same questions countless times before. 

“But do you need to?” Lance asked, feeling like he already knew the answer. 

“No.” Came the blunt reply. 

“Okay…” Lance said slowly, trying to wrap his head around the new information. “But you breathe.”

“I do, in fact, breathe.” 

“And have a heartbeat?”

“Also, yes.”

“What about bleeding? If I cut you, would there be blood? Would it be red blood? Or like some weird black blood or something?”

A heavy sigh came from the raven-haired man. “While in this form I can bleed. Red blood.”

“So you-”

“No, I don’t bleed while in weapon form. That would be horrifying.”

“True, true…” Lance said, getting lost in thought. Keith seemed so human. And while Lance knew that he wasn't, it was hard to comprehend just how different Keith actually was. 

“Any more questions? Or can we get moving?” Keith said, his impatience cutting into Lance’s train of thought. 

“What? Oh, yeah. Let’s go.” 

“Great.” Keith said, moving towards Lance with his hand extended. Lance felt a spark of excitement fill his chest as he reached out to take Keith’s hand, squeezing his eyes shut as a familiar bright light started to fill the area. 

The caster tightened his grip around the wooden shaft that manifested in his hand, opening himself up to the rush of magical energy that came pouring into him. The power of Kei’rethem pulsed through him, arcane streams winding their way through his body, reaching all the way down to his legs where they curled around the black magic that had taken hold. Lance found himself smiling at the added strength, wondering how he could have been so hesitant before. 

“Which way?” Lance asked, opening his eyes and seeing the ebony-black staff with the red streak and two indigo feathers clutched in his hand. 

_ “Straight ahead.”  _ Keith’s voice said in his head.  _ “And try not to trip over any roots.” _

“I’ll do my best.” Lance said with a curt laugh, starting in the direction of the edge of the forest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! A little bit of a shorter chapter this time. Sorry about that but it's just how the scenes fall. The next one should be lengthier though so look forward to that.   
> I don't know if any of ya paid attention, but you might've noticed that the quality of my writing just went way up. Why, you ask? Well, the wonderful arc_kakusei offered to put up with me and beta read this fic which is amazing! I like delivering high quality stuff and with her help I can deliver super high quality stuff. It's a dream come true. She's fantastic so make sure to show her some love and appreciation. (She's also just a really cool person so there's that...)  
> As always, any and all feedback you are willing and able to give is greatly appreciated. It keeps me happy. It keeps me writing. It's just good all around.   
> Stay safe and I'll see ya next time!
> 
> ~Redjay


End file.
